


Until We Meet

by stardropdream



Category: X/1999
Genre: F/M, Sexual Content
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-02-24
Updated: 2013-02-24
Packaged: 2017-12-03 10:17:13
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,116
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/697182
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/stardropdream/pseuds/stardropdream
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>He worries sometimes that he is a bad person.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Until We Meet

**Author's Note:**

> Originally posted on LJ August 25, 2011. 
> 
> The narrative moves backwards, so hopefully that isn't too confusing.

**5.**  
She rolls herself up and onto him, straddling him. This move still causes both of them to blush, despite it all, despite the number of years it’s been. She’s almost a woman now and there’s something almost painful about the way his own shirt drapes over her body, slipping down off one shoulder as she smiles at him. He shifts, unable to deny that he likes this, thinking that he should be able to resist this, thinking that, deep down, he’s probably a horrible person for this, made worse by the fact that he never does anything to stop it.   
  
Her mouth is warm and gentle when she meets his, opening to meet him. She’s warmth and comfort and she presses down against him in just the way she’s learned he likes, and he knows he’s weak and won’t say no. When she pulls away, she’s still smiling, expression soft.   
  
Unsure what else he can do, his hands run up over her naked thighs and below her shirt. One hand presses against her stomach, promising to travel either upward or downward but for now staying still. She shivers as his other hand thumbs along her spine, following the curve of her body—her body, still so much like a child’s and yet undeniably growing into a woman’s.   
  
Her hands shake a little as she unbuttons her shirt and pulls off his clothes one by one. And when he hinges her hips back to meet him, her quiet gasp is worth all the worry of whether this is wrong.   
  
  
  
**4.**   
He wakes up and feels a leg draped up over his hip. It’s a soft leg, warm and heavy against his hip. Comforting as it might feel, as familiar as the leg is, he still freezes and slowly turns his head when he feels the weight. Yuzuriha is curled around him, smiling in her sleep and snuggling up against him. Her cheek pillows against his shoulder, her hair falling limp in her closed eyes. Her breasts—still growing, still getting used to them—press up against his chest in a way that’s almost sinful, threatening to spill over the top of the shirt she’s wearing, the top three buttons undone due to the heat of the summer night. She breathes warm against his neck, fingers curled in the fabric of his own shirt.   
  
It’s a comforting sight, but one that he’s still getting used to all the same. She’s grown the last few years, but in many ways is still so much like a child. It’s hard to reconcile sometimes, hard for him not to feel the disgust that always threatens the bottom of his stomach—the quiet assertion that he must be a horrible person to be with her like this when she’s still so young.   
  
He swallows thickly and lifts one hand, curling his fingers through her hair and stroking it slowly, his thumb tangling around the soft hair. His hand roves. He shifts, very slightly, not wishing to wake her so he can drape a heavy palm over the curve of her hip, feel the warmth of her skin spread against his callused skin.   
  
When she does wake up, it’s with a soft shudder of breath that blooms warmth against his neck. She pulls her head back, checking to see if he’s awake, and smiles widely when their eyes lock.   
  
“Good morning,” she says quietly and leans over to kiss his forehead.   
  
“Morning, Missy,” he says, voice as warm as the little body pressing against him.   
  
  
  
**3.**  
She spends the night often, arriving late at night and staying until he offers his bed to her and she accepts, curling up beside him, borrowing a shirt to wear for sleeping.   
  
Some nights, like this one, it’s almost too much. He cups her face, kisses her, keeps her close—as if disbelieving she is real, as if disbelieving she can stay, that someday she’ll realize that there’s something wrong with him, or someone else will finally understand that the little girl is not a daughter or a sister but someone so precious it almost aches, the most important person he’s ever known, ever longed to keep close for as long as he can. She’s warmth and light, she’s laughter and sympathy—soft eyes and gentle lips, gentle and so strong. The strongest person he’s ever known.   
  
She knows more about him than any other living person, understands him and accepts him and loves him so much that it’s almost too much and yet not nearly enough. He holds her, afraid to let go, but she never leaves without a small pout anyway—she wants to stay, too, wants to be with him.   
  
And as she curls her arms around his neck and rests her cheek against his shoulder, looking up at him with wide, warm eyes.   
  
“Can I stay?” she asks.   
  
As if she doesn’t already know the answer. He nods and turns his head so he can kiss her.   
  
  
  
**2.**   
After he tells her—after she knows—he agonizes over it. It’s in the moments when he’s alone, tending to plants or speaking with trees, that he begins to worry that something is wrong, that he is wrong. If Yuzuriha knew, she’d scold him, she’d insist he’s the kindest, best person she knows—and how she can say that despite knowing who and what he is, he doesn’t fully understand but doesn’t deny because he needs her words.   
  
_Besides,_ she’d say, the smile on her lips and in her eyes, _The birds and the others wouldn’t like you if you were a bad person, Kusanagi-san._  
  
There are five birds on the windowsill right now, chirping at him. One ruffles his feathers and Kusanagi uncurls his fingers, offering birdseed to them all. One by one they jump onto a finger and peck at the pile of food in his palm.   
  
His expression softens.   
  
  
  
**1.**  
“I love you,” he says, because he can’t think of not saying it now that he knows.   
  
Her eyes widen and her mouth falls open. For half a second he thinks she’ll run away—knows that’s a stupid fear—and then the next second her eyes are welling up and she’s smiling so widely and genuinely that his heart shifts in his chest almost painfully.  
  
“I love you, too!” she says, loudly, disbelieving, laughing—and she’s clinging to him, holding him tight, pressing to him and refusing to let go.   
  
  
  
**0.**   
The day he realizes he’s in love with Yuzuriha, no longer sees her as a child even though he should, is the day he realizes that he’s never wanted anything more in his life than to be with her always.


End file.
